A pas de deux
by Sinking Beatrice
Summary: 5th book : Umbridge arrives at Hoghwart and makes a well-known bantering pair of teachers wondering about the nature of their relationship...Long fic,all alonf 5th year. MM/SS, AU. Watch out : fun inside.
1. Toil and Trouble

**Author's note : Hello everyone ! This is my first fanfiction ever, and I'm glad you're here, because it means you are going to read it (please please pleaaaase read it) ! I will try to follow book five chronology, roughly, but focusing on our favorite couple-to-be ! As you will see, given the length of this chapter alone (be brave, it gets funnier at the end !), it will be a long fic. And one last thing : I'm French, and I'm not that fluent in English, so I apologize for mistakes and awkward formulations, it was hard for me to write this down. You know what they say about French ? No, the other thing : they suck at foreign languages. It is often true. Well, to cut on a long story short : I need a BETA ! If anyone is interested in correcting a SS/MM story, let me know, I'll be delighted. That's all my little fellows, i hope you'll enjoy this first chapter !**

**Disclaimer : Don't own anything, not even the English language, obviously.**

This would be a tough year. Albus Dumbledore was quite certain of it, as he reflected on the path of events that had led him to the beginning of the school year, that had led him precisely to this seat, and even more precisely to a position that forced him to listen with a polite smile the obnoxious speech of a small, plump, pink witch, who seemed to be the meanest thing around. He frowned at that thought : now he was behaving like a sensitive first year. But to speak the truth, he felt in his bones there was something wrong about his freshly appointed DADA teacher. Her reputation as a Ministry employee spoke for iself, but that was not what made him uneasy. She was too sweet. He liked to consider himself as a sweet expert, but that witch looked just like a whole bowl of sugar : destined to give you nausea. No doubt she would have Cornelius agree on whatever she wished to do at Hogwart. He was even surprised she was not higher in hierarchy. Ah, but this may win her a promotion, he sighed inwardly. He looked up once more. A Slytherin, no doubt. Not that he remembered her, how old could she be anyway ? But years of proximity with the Sorting Hat had given him a trained eye.

On his right, he felt his Deputy Headmistress tensed, as she was indeed paying far more attention to the speech than he was. Why bothering ? He already knew the tune and lyrics : blindness and control, control and blindness. He had to suppress a grin when he heard a disdainful snort. Oh yes, the confrontation with Minerva would be quite a show, a show he didn't want to miss. He had no idea where she had acquired her reputation of strictness and self-control : when you dared giving her a good reason, she was the first to bite. And this, he decided while watching the pink heels turning back to the table, was definitely a major snack.

"You are smiling, Albus."

He turned to his left to meet the stern gaze of a tiny wizard who seemed even more concerned than he was.

"I'm only showing interest in the educational headlines of my new teacher, Filius. As a headmaster, it does not sound so out of character."

His small wink didn't sooth his neighbour.

"Anyway, we're going into trouble this year."

Albus observed the way Umbridge was trying to get a smile from her neighbour, who unfortunately happened to be Severus Snape. He sighed.

"My point exactly."

Severus was trying hard not to indulge in an access of physical violence. And it's not even the first day of school, he thought. This was early, even for him. But Merlin forgives him, he was not the one to blame. No only had he to go through the moronic speech of some Ministry's boot-licker, but he had also be graced with the seat next to hers. And after seating contentedly, she had tried to engage him in a conversation. The poor fool really hadn't a clue.

This surely was an account of Rolanda Hooch's thinking, who had spotted the courageous (spelled « suicidal ») attempt and was silently smirking at the tall witch on Severus's left. Who averted her gaze toward him and lifted an eyebrow in a very characteristic manner. The corners of her mouth twitched as she recognized his expression of restrained anger. She knew that look all too well. To speak the truth, she had invested time and energy on that look, and almost could call it her own. It was a bit unfair the pink frog could trigger it at once, without displaying all the efforts she had to. Then she saw the cheesy smile the witch was flashing to her neighbour and her other eyebrow came to meet the first one.

When he met Minerva's eyes, Severus couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. Feeling her so tensed just a couple of minutes ago had been quite of a comfort, knowing that he was not the only one wishing to hex Umbridge right and there. But after what she had just spotted, she was beginning to enjoy herself, he could tell. Life was unfair. But on the other hand...

He turned deliberately toward Minerva as Umbridge was spitting out yet another piece of nonsense, and composed the perfect mask of hypocrisy

"Since I can see my dear colleague smiling at that, I can't help but underline the interest Minerva takes in a strict disciplinary line too. Isn't that true ?"

She cast him a murderous glance, in her very feline way. The one that made birds fall from trees.

"You follow me in this field, I believe, even if we have encountered minor...disagreements throughout the years."

Severus smirked. This might just be a not so diplomatic understatement.

"Nothing a open hearted conversation over a good cup of tea cannot solve, I expect."

...that or a friendly encounter on a ring, thought the composed Deputy. But she indulged in a smile that could compete with those of the pink witch.

"Is that an invitation ?"

"Let's say « a modest proposal »..."

"Um um !"

The annoying sound came from an obviously dissatisfied Umbridge. The conversation was not going as she expected, and she even had the feeling she was being ignored ( such reflections were what had motivated Rolanda Hooch's making of a sign « Congrats, Miss Brainy » which she used with Sybill on a daily basis, and occasionally, when she felt very brave or very drunk, with Minerva). And nobody was to ignore Dolores Jane Umbridge, even a dark looking Potion Master with a fascinating glance.

"I admire your interest for the disciplinary field, which is of great concern for the Ministry, I dare say, but I am here first and foremost because, deep down, I care a lot for students."

She had pressed her hand on her rather prominent chest while speaking and now wore a touched look.

"They are our future and our hope So much depends on them, and therefore on us. I'm so glad to be honoured with that noble yet heavy task."

She had spoken louder, so that the rest of the staff (and hopefully a couple of said students) would hear her. Rolanda Hooch, being her delicate self, discreetly pretended to vomit behind Hagrid's back, while Filius bent his head toward the Head of Hufflepuff and whispered :

"It sounds like something she had been told to learn by heart, don't you think ? The Ministry has hired efficient propagandists, oops « public relations consultants », or so it seems. Pity they didn't found a better actress."

Pomona coughed to hide her smile. Minerva, on the other hand, only straightened up, which was commonly known as a bad sign.

"Heavy is the word", she said regally.

Obviously, the show was going on. Umbridge looks understandably shocked, even if she wasn't sure she had just been insulted. Severus thought better of it and eagerly engaged in a long speech on the difficulties of teaching nowadays while the small witch was glancing suspiciously at McGonagall. Even if he couldn't help but rejoice at Minerva's ability to shut someone up, he found she was being childish. What was the point in annoying a Ministry puppet only minutes after she had been so plumply seated on her new DADA chair ? To double toil and trouble, probably. The witch in herself looked disgustingly vain, and was spoken for. Yet she was expected to report on Hogwart's events. Oh, mark this one, « report on ». She would basically spy on their every moves, and Minerva was running after, as he said, trouble. He would not miss the occasion of commenting on that to her.

And he was not the only one. Dumbledore was smiling what could have been, for anyone but him, a genuine smile. But Minerva knew that was the peculiar way irony tended to express with him. It gave you the impression of being mocked, even if you weren't his target at all, and on some occasions, (that is to say when it had applied to herself) she had found it quite rude.

"I hope you have enjoyed Ms Umbridge's welcome speech as much as I did, my dear", he said in a low and steady tone.

Minerva grunted something incomprehensible.

"I too think it is good for the students to know their teachers' priorities. You, for example, have your own style, and so has Severus, or Dolores. Problem is I can't count the detention papers I had to sign because of « artistic differences ». Some allow things some don't. Sometimes it turns up pretty badly. Of course, most of the time we can rely on our students' intelligence and capacity of adaptation. But, ah, one can never be too sure..."

Minerva gave him a stern look to show she had understood. In fact, Albus's words had opened perspectives that made her shiver...She turned toward Umbridge again, as if nothing had happened.

"A heavy task, yes. You see, our wonderful students sometimes fail to see themselves as our "future and hope". You can ask Severus, he knows a lot of fascinating stories on the subject..."

Now Minerva had the expression of someone oversatified with her capacity for repartee. He immediately felt the urge to prove her wrong. It was amazing how, having not seen her for more than a month, he was craving for an intellectual confrontation. Her exchange with Umbridge had given her that vibrant look she always had during their argument sessions. It brought him back pleasant memories. He had always liked the way she would commit physically into verbal fights. He decided he would be gallant : he would first save her from Umbridge's suspicions.

"I didn't know you found your task heavy, Minerva. Most of the time, I hear you celebrate the virtues of what you call your "vocation". But I'm well aware that woman is fickle. After all this years..."

Her change of attitude was immediate : her eyes narrowed and she straightened up defiantly.

"Years, like you say, have nothing to do with it, but thank you for your delicacy. I understand why you show such concern, however, for you're the one here who always called his task heavy. Earlier I was only trying to express that a rank of different opinions exists within the staff;"

So much for gallantry. A beginner's mistake, really.

"If I'm allowed to quote myself, I think I was only referring to teaching Gryffindors."

That was it. You could read this conclusion on every teacher's face. They were well trained for this kind of "free exchange of opinion", as Dumbledore called it. It was a game with its codes, classics, and legendary strikes. Minerva slowly turned to face him, and rest on her elbow, presenting him a serene and smiling face. The kind of face that made small furry animals wanting to crawl back to their burrow.

"How amusing. I used to associate the term with Slytherins, but you know how I am, I tend to mix up things...Although, if I had to find another word to describe Flint's attitude on a broomstick..."

"I beg to differ : it suited well Potter's last game...this boy has clearly been submitted to more gravity than the average."

"Speaking of gravity, I admire your ability to relate grave events in a fit tone. Anyway, Grinffindors being heavy, how do you deal with me ?"

"Gravity, once again, I suppose. Even if I rather not be held responsible for it."

Minerva's eyebrows almost disappeared under her hair when she understood the implications of his pun.

"Attraction, really ? Please, Severus. I know you can do better than that."

And with this she gazed ever so slightly toward Umbridge. Severus froze in disgust;

"My dear, I wouldn't dare suggesting such a thing...I don't want to see you accused of corrupting the youth."

"I wouldn't worry about that, if I were you. Of course, if I were you, I would have to hex myself into oblivion, too. But I'm being rhetorical."

"I think there are other words for what you are being right now."

She stayed silent for a few seconds, only staring at him ans smiling a superior smile. Finally, she let out, almost distractedly :

"Oh, indeed ? I'd like to hear them, one day. Just to make myself marvel at your flourish vocabulary. Does it includes, let's say, words beginning with a s **(*)** ?"

Severus smirked as he bent to whisper :

"I guess so."

Minerva was still holding her chin with her hand and she was holding his gaze as if her life depended in it. At that stage of the duel, it clearly appeared that the winner was to be chosen after the final staring contest. Aurora and Septima were showing different amounts of fingers to each other in order to determine how much money was at stake. Severus was focused. Minerva was good at staring, you had to recognize it. After all, it could almost be considered as her educational basis. But he was used to it and had practised a lot. The trick consisted in looking at the beauty spot under the corner of her right eye. But he knew that if he inadvertently met her eyes, he would loose. Well, most of the time. She triggered in him an uncanny feeling, he would feel a bit weak and would need to avert his gaze. He supposed it was the same story with her students, hence her reputation. She may have gorgons ancestors of sort (he would have to tell her this one day).

As he were reflecting on this, his eyes had imperceptibly begun to drift toward hers. He suddenly became conscious of it and redoubled his concentration, trying to look almost bored. He had to focus on that beauty spot, only that beauty spot, and then he would...

"Um um."

It broke the trance they were immersed in. The annoying sound was already a disagreeable experience, but it was infinitely worsened by what followed :

"Excuse me, but are you two married ?"

Minerva stopped dead. She slowly turned toward Umbridge with an expression of mute horror. Several seconds passed before she asked :

"Surely you don't mean...with each other ?"

"Of course I do, don't be silly. In fact I'm particularly curious about your answer, since if you're not, I might have to report on that. I used to think there would be in this school a strict policy forbidding inappropriate relationships between members of the staff."

Now all the table looked in a state of shock. Then, faintly, Rolanda Hooch began to laugh quietly, but with tears flowing down her cheeks, muttering half sounds which you could interpret as "my Goodness", "too much" and "won't survive it". Minerva gathered her spirits quicker than Severus.

"No. I mean, no, no, no, no, absolutely not. No we're not...never. Not in a milli...I mean, this is absurd, ridiculous. How could one think of..."

Then she began to laugh too, silently, and soon it resumed in huge spasms, so she clung to the table in order not to fall from her chair.

Finally Severus managed to push aside all the disturbing thoughts that were attacking his mind and picked up a very cold expression.

"As you may decipher between the lines of my colleague's speech, no, we're not. Married. And in a relationship. Of any kind."

He slapped himself inwardly as he spotted Rolanda rising her eyebrow up and down suggestively. Umbrige, on the other hand, looked unsatisfied.

"Don't try to fool me. There is obviously something between you, given the way you were shamelessly flirting not a few minutes ago ! I call it disgraceful !"

"I..., replies Minerva who had finally regain her composure, call it a fight. A duel. A "free exchange of opinion", for the canonic term..."

"My dear, if that is the way you duel, I would be curious to see how you seduce someone. Or perhaps _you _should wonder. I, of course, mention it only from a purely professional eye. In case sanctions would be called for."

When he saw Minerva jumping on her feet, her eyes blazing with rage, Dumbledore knew it was time for an intervention. He chose his sternest tone :

"As far as I know, the Ministry is not entitled to take any sanctions concerning my staff acquaintances..."

Umbridge's expression modulated as if she was about to say something.

"… and if this should happen in the future, I would be ready to vouch for my two Heads of House. As unacceptable a rule it may be. Therefore I would appreciate you do not draw hasty conclusions, Dolores."

Then he bent forward, just enough to let Minerva sit back unnoticed. It was, at all time, a shame to waste a good indignation move with an uneasy comeback, and she couldn't decently leave the table, for the meal was public. A flaw often underlined among the staff during his years at Hoghwart. Incidentally, he was under the impression he was to hear about it more often for the time to come...

**(*) : definitely not what you are thinking**


	2. A terrible beauty is born

**Hellooo, I'm back. I know it has been way too long, blame it on...me, or life. As a matter of fact, chapter 2 is almost done, but not typed yet...A bit angst here but I needed it, the following chapter might funnier. And millions of thanks to my kind beta, comedydarling24, who help this to sound right. Kisses and cookies to you too, kind reviewers !**

A Terrible Beauty Is Born

It is a truth universally acknowledged that one should not cross Minerva McGonagall, even if one is in a position that should permit him to do so harmlessly. Because, this time reasons unknown, "harmlessly" isn't a word that applies. And this could puzzle a close observer, for Minerva McGonagall is often considered as the epitome of sense. Of course, had somebody taken the time to ponder this data more carefully, the results would have scared him to no end.

Sense prevented Minerva from looking for trouble in the first weeks of September, and sense kept her on guard, nevertheless, for trouble. She was quite ashamed of this fact, but she had to admit that she had taken extra care of her lesson plans and disciplinary line, as if to prepare for a 'just in case' that had not yet come. Not that she was afraid of that woman. She had had a sample of her intentions toward Potter and it reminded her of some forgotten duties. She would not abandon the boy to the pink creature just because he was brass and impulsive. She had to admire his "Gryffindor style", definitely. Oh, she was already hearing what Severus would have retorted to the previous statement. Still, he wouldn't have been entirely wrong, but, she realized, she hadn't really seen him since the beginning of the term. Maybe he was developing his strategy for the year too, but it may also have been unrelated. For she had noticed he often disappeared these days. Or maybe he didn't' want to offer evidence of their fictitious marital bond...

She sighed and tried to focus on the piece of paper in front of her, a lesson she was supposed to prepare for the 3rd years. Obviously it wasn't going very well, and she decided to blame the late hour (past one) and to call it a day. She had a sudden craving for a strong tea, a drink that usually swept away all disturbing thoughts. Even if it wasn't her habit (she would have prepared it herself or summon a house-elf in the most extreme cases), she was inclined to go to the kitchens. She inwardly admitted a need to walk a bit. She was restless, and on edge from the pink shrew. She had also heard Umbridge had asked to thoroughly inspect the house elves and their work when she first arrived. Filius had provided her with the information, as he was in extremely good terms with them. He was probably the only one to whom they would have admitted such a thing. He claimed to be fascinated with the elves charms abilities, but she suspected his sweet tooth was also responsible for his assiduity in this part of the castle.

She was on her way, vaguely reflecting on how to discuss the event more seriously, when a cracking caused her to stop. She held her breath and focused, judging the potential for danger. She perceived every sound, every move with great acuity and as she was scanning the darkness she heard from a distance someone breathing heavily. She groped around the corner of the corridor and almost tripped on a dark mass, half bent, half huddled up against the cold wall. This peculiar feel of the stone suddenly reminded her of where she stood. This was the corridor leading to the dungeons. The panic that had begun to effect her was soon replaced by something lighter but no less chilling.

"Severus ?"

Even if there was practically no lighting in this part of the castle at night and even if she imagined more than she actually saw the two familiar dark orbs lifting up toward her could not have fooled her mind. It was all contained in his slow and repressed gestures. He was obviously in a poor state.

"Oh my...Severus, what has happened to you?"

He pushed more firmly against the wall to straighten up before he responded, "Minerva...Good...for a minute I feared it would be...someone else."

His voice was hollow and he obviously was in pain, although, under this light, she could see no apparent bruise. She took his arm. "Come, you need to see Poppy immediately," she whispered in a hurry, but he immediately pushed her away.

"No !...No I'm fine. I'm fine. I don't want to...Let go of me."

Minerva was more and more confused.

"But where have you been? What happened?"

"I was on a mission...for Dumbledore."

"A mi...You mean Albus is aware of this? Where did he send you?"

He looked angry, but it was dark and could she really see anything? "I can't elaborate. Now please...just let me go. I'll take some pepper-up potion, I'll be alright."

"You won't! I can see that very well! Tell me about the nature of your injuries. You're not in a state to do magic at the present time. This looks serious!"

"It's not! Stop fussing over me as if you were Poppy! I'm a grown man, and a grown man who has a stock of curative potions for occasions like this one! Now let me be."

He was heading toward his laboratory door, not twenty meters away, but from her point of view, in his state it was as if he was trying to cross an ocean.

Authoritatively she took hold of his arm again and passed it over her shoulder in order to act as an effective support. She should have known there was no point arguing with the man, even when he looked on the verge of fainting. At least she would be able to examine him in his office, and she'd like to see him try to get rid of her. He protested weakly as she helped him to a chair and lit a lamp. She turned toward him. As far as she could see, his skin presented no apparent injuries, but his eyes were uncannily bulged and nails marks could be seen on his palms. A terrible dread sized her and she let her fingers ran lightly over his skin, merely brushing in order to feel any magical traces.

"Merlin, Severus...You have been charmed, haven't you?"

Answer came in a snort, "Under this light, I think you're flattering yourself..."

"This is no time for joking! I need to know if there could be any magical interference..."

"You needn't," he interrupted her, "for you won't heal me. I know what I'm doing, it's not the first time...just give me the purple vial on your left, if you really wish to be useful."

She watched him drink with apprehension, but he did not look relieved of his pain. He probably deciphered her gaze, for he added immediately, "It takes some time to have full effect. I'll be fine, just go back to bed."

Minerva was beginning to get angry.

"Why haven't you gone to Albus in the first place? I can't imagine him sending you on a dangerous mission without checking your state afterward."

He fixed her with a penetrating look and she felt as if he was trying to gauge her.

"Look, I...We can't do that, for reasons I can't possibly describe to you. Your presence here is already an anomaly. By staying you're threatening my position."

"Oh really? I threaten your position? Is that so? Well feel threatened, for I don't intend to move."

With that she crossed her arms and looked up defiantly. She knew she wasn't acting in a very mature way, but it hasn't escaped her that Severus' hands were still shaking.

"You weren't supposed to be here. That was not the way it was supposed to be."

He had closed his eyes, obviously too tired to fight back, or to stay furious. His voice barely rose above a whisper now, and she felt a sudden attack of guilt.

"Look, I don't want to know. Don't tell me. But let me stay, you bear deep traces of magic, probably dark magic, and you know as well as I the effects on the body that can manifest after several hours."

With a sudden inspiration she added, " Not that I care overly much, but if you die now they might cancel the first game of the Quidditch season, and _that_ would be a real loss."

The corners of his mouth trembled and she knew she had won. Even in the worst moments, he was still receptive to the old code. What a foil. With persuasion, she managed to bring him to rest on the couch in his quarters. Then she pushed the nearest armchair right against to it in order to keep an eye on him and his magical balance. The potion was beginning to take effect. He looked more relaxed, but she noticed with alarm that every ten minutes he experienced violent spasms. Just in case she cast a soothing charm and waited for him to sleep. The lit fireplace was slowly warming up the room and she kept wondering. He had alluded at having done this several times before. She was not stupid; she had a more or less definite idea of what was going on. Maybe some nights, when she had been sipping her cocoa alone in her quarters, he had been in this corridor, in pain and crawling toward his door. This thought disturbed her immensely. The things that could happen behind walls and closed doors...Ah, closed doors. It reminded her of Umbridge and her delirious suspicions...She knew so little of him she realized. To think they could be married...Utterly ridiculous. Glorious bickering wasn't even a basis for a proper relationship. And now this...This was something. To see him in such a state felt wrong. Right now, his chest was moving up regularly but his hands were clenched. The very sight of him was painful.

Little by little drowsiness overtook her. She imagined for a second he was her husband, back from his campaign against dark wizards. So dramatic. Yet, he looked so far away...She felt a desperate need to know him, to penetrate his walls, just to be sure he would be safe. Was he, even in his everyday life, when she met him in the staff room, grading some essays, having his breakfast in the Great Hall, refusing to speak with Umbridge, was he all right ? With uneasiness, she realized that she didn't know. Another wave of guilt. Merlin, this situation made her feel vulnerable. She rested her head on the arm of the chair, still checking if his breathing was regular. As she closed her eyes, strange thoughts when flickering through her mind. _If__ we were married, we would have killed each other after a week or so, and that would be the only way for us to be happy...Crime of passion over a Quiddi__t__ch field. Oh my. That would be perfect entertainment._

Severus woke to the first rays of sun penetrating the room with difficulty through the heavy velvet curtains. The first information his brain received was that he might have been trampled on by a bunch of centaurs, for all his muscles were screaming. He was stiff all over. The second was the memory of his encounter with the Dark Lord, and of the few Crucios he had taken. Piece of information n°2 explained n°1 more effectively than any folkloric centaur encounter. He was forced to congratulate his rational mind for leading the boat so well even after Voldemort's trust exams. Then came piece of information n°3, which sent his rational mind on a brief vacation in some place distant. Inches from his own face was the sleeping head of a woman, resting on her arm that was stretched in his direction as if to touch him ('to check your pulse', Minerva would say later).

He got up carefully to examine the improbable position of the sleeping creature. She was bent up on an armchair like some grounded mermaid. An image reinforced by the fact that her hair was hanging in the air, between the chair and the couch. A metallic reflect on the floor caught his eye and he knelt down with caution to pick up a sharp and delicate object on the thick carpet: a hairpin. He understood and remembered: Minerva. This was Minerva. Of course it was, for he must have been blind not to see her. No, he was wrong. He hadn't recognized her, but he had _seen_ her. He was obviously doing the reverse in his ordinary life. He would never have said the witch could look so unfamiliar, so alien. For she really offered a peculiar view, and he couldn't detach his eyes from the cascade of tresses suspended in the air. He suddenly had the impression he was looking at something indecent. Memories from the previous night were on their way, and he felt disgusted by his own weakness. He shouldn't have let her stay, it was foolish, dangerous even, if the Dark Lord ever discovered by reading his mind he was being healed at Hogwarts after their meetings. This was the side effect of occlumency. When you were concerned with what was going on in your mind, you didn't let things enter your life.

She had been stubborn as always and now he felt stupid, childish and somehow trapped. He was not to tell her anything about his activities, never. What did she pretended to be, being here, checking up on him? Good god, it was even the first time in his life he has seen her asleep! _H__ow strange to realize you have never experienced this kind of thing__ with people you see __every day__, or t__hat you have never touched them__._ She was nobody. He hated her for putting him in such a situation, a situation in which he was forced to watch the woman who had circumvented his will and treated him like a child, sleep. He couldn't wake her up. It would be totally inappropriate. He refused to think of the awkward moment that was to come if he dared make such a move. It would be far too reminiscent of clichés and even more inappropriate situations that he refused to imagine; suddenly, the urge to crush Umbridge for her misplaced judgments was more appealing than ever. Trying to escape from this scene, he quickly gathered some fresh clothing and decided to seek refuge in a deserted classroom for the rest of the morning. Luckily it was Sunday, and he could summon an elf to order something to eat. As for the rest, the prefect's bathroom was his most obvious option. As he walked through the empty corridors, he found he wasn't able to wash off the uneasy feeling that Minerva caused.

Minerva woke up from a dream of murderous Quidditch games with a terribly stiff neck. She stretched slowly, taking note of Severus' disappearance. She wasn't sure what to make of it. If anything, it showed he was able to walk and felt enough like himself to have abandoned her alone in his quarters. She was ridiculous. It was ridiculous to wake up alone here after making such a fuss about his state. It was a rude way to prove she had overreacted. It was, in a word, typical, at least of him.

As she massaged her neck, she saw a house-elf dusting in the other corner of the room.

"Excuse me; do you happen to know where Professor Snape has gone?"

The small creature blinked its enormous eyes, and Minerva wondered for a second if elves had an inclination for gossip, too.

"Master left two hours ago with clothes, mistress. Tippy knows he has ordered breakfast from the kitchens."

Very well then, if he wanted to play this way, she would take her leave and go back to sleep in her own bed.

However, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling until she saw him again on Monday morning. He looked as close to his usual, annoying self as could be. She didn't know if she should rejoice or regret it. She pretended to chat with Albus all along. The old man was always glad to oblige her with insignificant, mundane talking when she felt distressed, or more likely when she had decided to show her total disinterest in Severus, which happened traditionally twice a month.

"And how did you spend your weekend, my dear ?"

Ah, yes. Obliging yet surprisingly cunning, for it was, unfortunately, Albus.

"I...researched for my seventh years. I want to maintain high standard NEWTs, especially this year...you know. I could use a little update."

"Some would say old methods are safer...Of course, I always forget to ask, safer for whom. So ill-considered of me."

She hadn't the chance to approve of his witticism, for her neighbor, without bothering to look at her, coldly declared, "I take it you are under the habit of doing a lot of research, Minerva. I don't want to be as rude as to remind you of what curiosity did to the cat, but I'm afraid there are areas in which you should keep your unrestrained thrust for knowledge at bay. Some might call it intrusive."

All this was spoken barely above a whisper, so that Umbridge could continue her making of the perfect 'dietetically guaranteed cup of tea'. Rolanda, who always proved high spirited when confronted to a new staff member, glared. Minerva felt danger rising.

"I was under the impression that my 'thrust for knowledge', as you so delicately put it, was merely motivated by care and genuine intentions. Of course, one could argue these kinds of values are seldom rewarded as they should be. Ungratefulness being in such fashion..."

"As is foolishness, apparently. What a sad world indeed. I'm surprised you are still willing to interfere with such people...But, you being so kind-hearted... "

Resisting the urge to slap her hard, Minerva hissed, "You'll be delighted to know this kind of move isn't going to happen again. I, as anyone else, have learned my lesson."

"Such an optimist, as always..."

At that moment, Filius, who in a genius stroke had sensed a tension building up on the other side of the table, asked loudly for the date of the first staff meeting? His intervention was followed by various grunts and half spoken curses from Aurora, who had always loathed administrative business.

"I'm sure our good old exam schedule remains valid! If you don't say 'yes' to that, I might tell everyone what happens in your rooms at midnight. I own very good telescopes, mind you."

This had to be one of the reasons Aurora was seated at the end of the table, Minerva reflected. This and the fact that she was closer to Rolanda, who looked delighted by the statement, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we need more information here. You just can't throw general blackmail material in everybody's face like that! This is far too good! Timing, my child. You still have a lot to learn."

While Aurora gave a mock curtsey to her neighbour, Filius didn't give up, "I was only under the impression that things had a good chance to be, shall we say, different this year...

"You are absolutely right, Dumbledore answered, but I'm afraid this should wait one or two weeks at least. I have more pressing appointments up to there, which could impact on our agenda."

As 'someone' muttered, "Well, Filius wears ice-cream printed pajamas." Minerva spotted Umbridge straightening on her chair. Oh, wonderful. She was surrounded by nuisances.

**Yep, that was long. I really can't write short chapters, so...get used to it. R and R, it will make me dance and sing !**


	3. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes ?

_Quis custodiet ipsos __custodes?_

**Hello hello ! Here comes chapter 3, not so long after chapter 2 (well, erm, compared with last time). I think it is my favourite so far, so let me know what you think...I realized my Charity was written after a friend of mine who is very sensitive, but it's something I noticed only afterward...Oh the intricaties of inspiration. I've written maybe a half of chapter 4 so far, but I'm kind of unispired right now...Let's pray for the rest to come soon !**

As days went by, Minerva was discovering that her perspectives were slowly getting pinker and pinker. Pink as the sickening smile Umbridge had decided to dedicate to anyone near (especially to Severus, for an unknown reason), the ugly colour she painted her lips with. Pink as the papers she received on a daily basis, announcing detention for yet another Griffindor. Pink as the office she had already been in twice to quarrel over said detentions. And Potter. Not necessarily in this order. On many occasions she had to thank Merlin (rather than Dumbledore, who was missing quite often these days) for being a Head of House and Deputy Headmistress, and thus to have an ever-so slight ascendant on the toad's (a nickname that was being popularized by the Weasley twins with her mute benevolence) most arbitrary decisions. She wasn't allowed to cancel a detention, but she was being the worst of bureaucrats to make sure there won't be too much of them. Ah, the joys of authority. She noted with satisfaction the DADA teacher didn't look too pleased after her pedagogical appointment with Dumbledore. Distracted as he seemed for the time being, you could always count on the old (infuriating) man to crush those who had undue pretensions. With poise and style. She had always thought this "candy addict" cover was a bit of a perverse mask. Actually, nowadays there were few fools who still didn't take him seriously, although Rita Skeeter's campaign might have increased their number dramatically. The poor woman had no idea what gift she was delivering him. There was nothing in the world Albus loved more than offering someone a lemon drop before smiling and proving how wrong it was to take him for a old lunatic.

But this did little to enlighten her mood. Severus was still insufferably cold with her and showed reluctance even to be near her. It was not a tragedy, but more like a small rock in her shoes: unexpectedly, it prevented her from going on. The man really was an enigma. She hadn't even asked him a single question about his state that night!

Before they had had occasional rows on minor issues, but nothing this serious, and moreover, nothing this awkward. It was as if something indecent had happened between them. Things that weren't to be seen...But this was ridiculous. Truth to be spoken, she missed their old bantering contests, especially in this tense atmosphere. After the third pink note of the week, she could use a good 'old hags go first' classic, (or even a round or two of what Rolanda spiritually called 'the Scottish play'. It ordinarily began with a "I'm sorry, you _didnee _what ?"). She had always been one for games. Any game: Quidditch, chess, bantering, laughing at Sybill...Games proved very useful in due time, she had experienced it on numerous occasions. Now she needed some practice for the day Umbridge would cross a line. She just had to decide which line will do. Good taste sounded like a reasonable choice.

Albus had finally called for their usual preparatory meeting (Aurora had fallen victim to a sudden coughing attack which sounded awfully like 'Dumbledore only wears socks at night'). But strangely enough, he had asked them to prepare notes on subjects they would like to see discussed. ('I repeat: only socks'). And she suspected a certain someone was the real reason for this bureaucratic fence.

"Um. Um."

She stopped dead in her trail of thoughts and looked around in panic to find the corridor she was currently passing by contained a delighted looking Charity Burbage.

"Merlin, Charity, I could have hexed you, you know?"

The teacher gave her a genuine smile.

"Well, you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't notice me from a ten meters distance; I'd have thought it was a _force majeure_ ."

Minerva smiled warmly. It wasn't like the quiet and enthusiastic Muggle study teacher to play such jokes on a colleague. She felt compelled to tackle the subject once again: " Speaking of which, what do you think of our new...teacher ? I haven't heard you much on the subject, and Merlin knows it is a fashionable one."

Charity shrugged. Minerva had often wondered at how composed she was (in comparison with, let's say, Rolanda). Almost too composed: she couldn't help but think of that 4th year Ravenclaw, Lovegood, when looking at Charity's dreamy expression and hearing her innocent and clear voice.

"You know very well what I may think. I'm like everybody; I think someone should take his responsibilities and knock her off, possibly by using an ax or something. But, you know, only a suggestion."

That was a thing with Charity: there was never a trace of irony in her most extraordinary declarations. She might have perceived the astonished look on Minerva's face, for she added after a few seconds: "I...don't think she likes Muggles very much."

The Head of Gryffindor almost burst out. Really, Dolores Umbridge, not liking Muggles? That was certainly most shocking. Not to say out of character. Ah but, true enough, she reminded her of that lady Prime Minister the English Muggles used to have...

"She thought I was an old pupil teacher keeping a kind of club for the weirdest students. When I explained to her the subject had entered the syllabus in 1972, she _coughed_. You know, like she does."

And there, she emits some kind of high pitched hick ups strongly evocative of a sick chicken. Minerva was laughing out loud now, for the imitation was indeed very telling. Now she wasn't much surprised by Umbridge's intolerance, but her rudeness continued to amaze her. She behaved like a Buggler in a box of Snitches. Oh no, she was thinking about Quidditch again...

"I take it you were going to the library" said Charity while gently taking her arm. She was familiar with that kind of awkward move, but everyone just avoided mentioning it, for they interpreted it as some exotic Muggle habit.

"Yes...I need to check old copies of Transfiguration Today for my OWL classes...You know how this is..."

Charity suddenly seemed to examine her face very cautiously. "I sense you're awfully lonely these days. We don't hear about you very much. Something has changed, or so it seems to me."

"Why would you say that?"

Minerva was utterly puzzled by the bizarre statement. It was as if she was having a conversation with Sybill, something she passed her days trying to avoid with great constancy. The problem was Charity was more often than not right.

"I sense it. It's in the air."

Of course, someone practicing a very intuitive kind of magic would be allowed, technically speaking, to perceive such chances in auras. But most of the staff was composed of erudite and serious wizards and witches who believed in method and hard work. Oh yes, they were square-minded: yet she wasn't surprised Albus had hired someone like Charity. She felt somehow compelled to speak to her, and was surprised when she let out naturally, "I don't like this year's beginning. And...I fought with Severus; we're not on speaking terms anymore. I guess I was used to his 'company' after all."

"Yes, I see." She took Minerva's hand in hers. "The two of you like to proceed on an edge, that's why."

"I would rather say that's because of his awful temper."

"It had never bothered you up until now."

She was about to answer when she realized it was true. She had liked to duel with him and to pretend ignoring him at dinner when Slytherin had won a game. Until now, their fights have been of no consequence, and even if they weren't that close, they used to talk passionately over scholarly matters and occasional games of chess (which she generally won, but in the last months, his strategy had improved dramatically). Sometimes he was grumpy, sometimes he was playful, and she even managed to get a few compliments at a time. Considering it more closely, it was striking to see how that fateful night had affected their relations.

Charity was now examining Minerva's fingers with a serious expression. "I liked it when she asked if you were married. The look on your faces was fabulous. Puzzling too, of course."

They had reached the library's door, and Charity had a class to teach nearby. Minerva had kept quiet at her last observations, wondering vaguely what she meant exactly. After wishing her a good day, they separated. Charity continued her way toward her classroom, and smiling absentmindedly to a portrait she whispered, "Yes...I wouldn't have expected it of her, such clairvoyance.

Albus Dumbledore was an old man. That was what he liked to say to himself after a tough day, when he had the chance to grab a deep armchair, a glass of firewhisky and possibly a Chocolate frog. He liked the image he offered the world. Of course, this ritual was most of the time accomplished in front of a Ministry official, but it didn't mean you weren't allowed to enjoy a good role. It gave him the illusion of the retirement he would never have. A prospect that became even gloomier during certain meals. Like this one.

"I really am amazed by the nerves of some students! Mind you, to contradict a teacher, and publicly! And not only a teacher, but the Ministry! I hope there will soon be real sanctions taken against those who find pleasure in attacking official positions for their personal account. This really provides the worst example. I'm sure I don't have to give names."

Filius's gaze would have set his beard on fire, he was pretty sure. It was as if the tiny wizard thought he had to say something to this, at least because he was insulted indirectly. He clearly saw no reason to do so. Insults were good things to collect; he was currently becoming richer and richer in this respect, and it would be a great commodity someday. Besides, every time this happened, sooner or later, someone would...

"On the contrary, please do enlighten us."

Albus smiled contentedly. People's loyalty was something truly wonderful. It was the most precise of mechanisms. Nevertheless, he was almost surprised the statement had come from the Head of Hufflepuff. Minerva really was under the weather these days.

Anyway, Umbridge on the contrary seemed in one of her vainglorious days. The more he was forced to associate with her, the more he thought the bigger part of her power came from a capacity to confuse an opinion with truth. She was so convinced she uttered evidence she tended to see an ally in everyone. Of course, given the level of friendliness of her current environment, these phases were doomed to alternate with paranoid episodes. At least, life was with twists and turns...

"Potter, dear, I was referring to Potter, who else. That boy really deserves a lesson of humility, and I'm even slightly concerned with his mental balance. He keeps uttering nonsense; even his classmates have noticed that. Luckily, nothing a strict disciplinary can't heal, I hope. He needs strictness. This boy has been overprotected, and praised for too long."

To everyone's surprise, Umbridge's optimistic vision of her surroundings proved not to be entirely delirious. Severus had used the tone he usually reserved for his students, and he wasn't even looking at her, but Albus was not the only one to notice his nod. "You will discover Potter is impermeable to discipline. He likes to see himself as a kind of tortured hero that nothing can deter. And of course, sanction is only a new way to keep himself at the center of attention...picture a dark image of sort."

Umbridge dedicated to him her most charismatic smile, causing Septima, who was innocently finishing her meal, to experience a deadly spasm. Before she could answer ('fleeing our responsibilities, are we?' Thought Albus, now focused on how white Minerva had turned), Severus stood up and left the table. Almost immediately, Minerva excused herself and followed him at a determinate pace. Roland Hooch, who knew this pace for having sometimes been its ending point, shuddered.

She waited to catch up with him, she waited long enough, just enough not to be heard from the Great Hall, to maintain a certain decorum, to keep things on a private level. But not long enough for it to be totally private, because she refused to grant him the privilege of chasing him down to his own quarters. She knew how to stage her fits of rage.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

She was already shouting, and he turned to her a mask of disdain. "Leaving I guess. But surely you'll have some objections to me being so outrageously secret."

"Don't you dare play dumb with me! What are we supposed to think of your little repartee?"

"I do not ask for you to think anything. In fact, my life would be rather simpler if you'd avoid thinking anything about what I do or say. It would save your energy, too."

"I can't believe the nerve of you! You should be ashamed of yourself! Such immaturity! You're not even able to refrain from childish resentment for even one moment? Don't you realize you're encouraging the Ministry to bring him down?"

Now she was really yelling, and it made her feel good. She had wanted an occasion to do so for the past few weeks, and was currently releasing all of her recent frustrations. The result was physically visible: he could almost feel the rush of energy emanating from her, and magic was accumulating in the air, as if she was prepared for a fight.

"Are we supposed to sit and watch you deal with the enemy?"

And he didn't respond. It was most disturbing, as she was in the middle of an impulse, and her anger needed something to feed on. Without a target, she felt somehow compelled to get angrier and angrier. His expression stayed neutral and he was just there, watching her with an impassive air, as if she was not really there.

"He's not his father! And you know that! You know it all too well, Snape!"

She blinked. She hadn't seen him move, but suddenly his face was inches from hers, and he hissed:

"Yes you're right. You're always so right it must be tiring. He's not, and that's why I can't get stand him myself. But, please, don't strain your intelligence any longer and try to think of what I've said. It will spare your nerves and my ears."

All her agitation had been crushed by his unpredictable move. He was so close she could see his lips had turned white too. She suddenly wished he was miles away, and whispered almost sadly, "I should slap you, you know."

It was mere rhetoric, or at least empty threats, so she was taken aback when he answered, "Yes, I know."

With that, he took a strange look at her hands, before vanishing. She stood there for a second, in the empty corridor, and suddenly felt exhausted.

Administrative obligations have that crushing and emptying quality that can be found in Greek tragedies; they are the more modern manifestation of fate. In other words, there is no way you can escape it, even if you wish to very, very much. Even Aurora knew there was no point in wasting her best blackmail material. But it was compulsory to try avoiding it at all cost: a biological move of sort. The teachers weren't looking forward to discover what insanities Umbridge had in mind: they knew. A whole month and a half with someone of her caliber was worth an advanced Occlumency stage. That is why the team spent the entire meeting with the volume off as a sanitary measure, or tried to. Unfortunately, you can't always ignore sentences that keep assaulting your self control in order to crack it open. But they did their best to pretend it was an average meeting. Pomona had arrived wearing a harassed air and had put some unidentified, earth covered vegetable quite violently on the table saying sternly, "I've brought oranges."

This was traditional. It was her way to fight the hostile environment an administrative meeting was. The process followed several unwritten rules: some dirt had to be involved, even for tree fruits, which were a mystery, the fruits had to be off season, and no one had the right to look too happy when eating it. Umbridge had only made a disgusted pout. Minerva had peeled her orange quite vigorously, which suggested some imaginary scenario going on in her head. Severus had learnt to recognize it several years ago. She had ripped pieces of the fruit's external white flesh under her nails, which were now slightly yellowed and shiny. He cursed himself for not paying more attention.

Umbridge was once again raving about discipline And the importance of theoretical approach. And teenage morals. And Potter. And lies. Every time she was at the high of a lyrical period, she smiled largely to Severus, who failed to notice, focused on something on the edge of the mahogany table. Somehow they had slipped to the detention topic, and then to the Forbidden Forest.

"It is simply scandalous that children should be sent to this horrible place for detention! So irresponsible: I heard it was inhabited by the most repulsive creatures. And it is called 'Forbidden' for a reason, right? It simply encourages students to overstep their bounds!"

Dumbledore, neglecting to ask who the "our" stood for, calmly answered, "We have established long ago these excursions were a more profitable experience for them than, let's say, copying lines."

His eyes shone for a brief second, and an imperceptible look of fear passed in Umbridge's eyes.

"Besides, Professor Hagrid accompanies them on every detention, and he's the safest of guardians."

Umbridge turned to Hagrid with an expression of pure disgust that clearly indicated that, to her, he was probably the most dangerous creature haunting the Forbidden Forest.

"Are we sure we want to expose our children to such unhealthy influences?"

The question could have applied to the Forest, but she had kept starin at Hagrid the whole time. Everyone stood shocked. Charity dropped her orange quarter. It was now Rolanda's turn to look at Umbridge as if she was the worst specimen of the previously mentioned repulsive creatures. Minerva's fists clenched on the table. Severus immediately looked up. And, to his surprise, spoke.

"I'm sure that _the Ministry _feels very concerned by the kind of place we send our students, or even (and there he paused to stare at her with disdain) the kind of people that sits at this table. This is an issue to be concerned with. A man has his values that truly express who he is. It is important to know who you are addressing, don't you think? That is why I'm concerned too. Do you believe some of us don't deserve to attend this meeting, Dolores? For I do."

The rest of the staff was dead silent. Everyone exchanged side glances, impressed. Even for Severus, that was harsh. Tension was in the air. Until Umbridge flashed a joyful smile and said, "I knew you would agree. But of course that is irrelevant here, for it belongs to the school's governors to accomplish such a u-turn."

Every teacher-except for Severus who was too busy exercising killing glances- was flabbergasted. Even Trelawney couldn't misread a situation so much. And extraordinarily enough, the meeting went on, as if nothing of importance had happened, except for the fact that most of the teachers were rather unfocused. Rolanda was whispering furiously in Aurora's ear, Minerva was tearing her notes in neat, tiny pieces and Filius, who had been eating tons of oranges, was now playing with the peel. Dumbledore had made sure of asking Hagrid's opinion on every subject, but Umbridge, who looked genuinely happy, hadn't even bothered to sniffle.

"This was the most peculiar meeting ever," declared Septima blankly as they were hurrying outside the room.

"That was awesome," answered an excited Aurora. She had no chance to elaborate because Umbridge was stepping out of the classroom delivering a speech to an obviously horrified Pomona. They only caught the end of it, and so did Minerva who was following them at a short distance.

"...because good principles have to be engraved in young minds. 'Strike the iron while it's hot,' I always say. But I think, and I'm not the only one, that children of Muggle blood should be kept in Muggle schools where they belong. We can't afford to dilute magic, not when we are surrounded by hostile hybrids who only dream of bringing us down. I've always said their magic will vanish by itself if it is left alone, but no, we keep encouraging them by 'education'. So naturally they become arrogant. Or separated schools maybe..."

She would have jinxed her here and now, for saying such a thing _with such an air_. It was not her manner, for she was usually cold and composed with people she truly hated, especially people in Umbridge's position. But she had been taken off guard. Oh, she had underestimated her, for sure. And now here she was, about to make a dangerous move...when Severus caught her arm swiftly and drew her in a corridor nearby. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he was going there fast. Holding her wrist, he was half running through dark corridors and stairwells, totally lost. He didn't know either what had forced him to do what he had just done, for he was quite certain something forced him. They weren't exactly on good terms, and, part of him added, given his declared principle of no intrusion, touching like this was not recommended. But he had to admit, he reflected, as they reached what seemed to be the bottom of the Astronomy tower, that he didn't like the idea of her getting into trouble with Umbridge, not so soon at least. With good luck, there would be occasions for such displays of rage, later on. He knew deep down that somehow they would have to fight her one day. But know, as he stopped in front of a wall, he realized his situation. He was about to endure a different kind of fight. They were facing each other, out of breath. "What...what on earth possessed you?"

Her previous anger added to this awkward flee made him bulk, and without answering he began to walk away. But she caught his arm. "Oh no, not this time!"

"Look, you know what you were going to do, and at least now you don't have to apply for a new job! Of all the stupid things..."

He paused, overwhelmed by his own exasperation, and frustrated too at how crossed he was.

"You're not yourself these days. She...Try to watch yourself, at least. It's not my problem anymore, but it could be Gryffindor's, or even Hogwart's. This is all I have to say."

Suddenly wiped of all emotions, Minerva could only watch him, feeling ridiculous once again, for unclear reasons.

"Why...oh, never mind, no questions I guess. As always."

She sighed deeply, and with that she was gone. As for him, it took a good five minutes of thinking to establish the safest way to the dungeons, largely more than was usually necessary for someone so accustomed to the castle. This resulted in a surprise meeting with Aurora, regaining her own quarters, who boldly tried to hug the hero of the day in an emotional impulse. Still recovering from the shock after locking up, he wondered what he could have done that was so marvelous that the world had suddenly decided to become his damned oyster.

He soon discovered it was not. Fate called him back in the form of a convocation in Dumbledore's office, just as any guilty student. Dumbledore, while a staunch supporter of this kind of move, was, maybe more than the others, difficult to convince when it came to sincerity. Not that he believed his attack against Umbridge had been launched out of anger. That was exactly his problem. He found out, when he was standing before the Headmaster's office, that the wizard's involvement in his life always seems to complicate it. Dumbledore had been, up to then...nice? On the verge of sarcasm? It was always hard to tell. As in, " I don't know if I am to congratulate our great hero of the day."

Or in, " Let's say the staff will appreciate this remarkable moment of support."

But of course the point was always encapsulated in soothing sentences. "In fact, the only reproach I would make to your little...fancy is that it was, indeed, remarkable. In other words, bound to be remarked. By whom? That you know as well as I do. By people who, allegedly, don't hold a good opinion of your person and still possess documents that could come out again.

He rested his chin on his crossed fingers.

"Severus, in these troubled times, you'll understand I don't want to draw attention to your past and especially to the fact that I stood with you when you fell under accusation. You can't do with arising suspicions. Your task is already hard enough."

He had felt a moment of anger when meeting his piercing glance. Of course it was hard enough, and he knew it well enough, for he was the one who bid him to come and see him after his missions, not to create unusual and unfalsifiable memories that could be read. But this was not over.

"Severus, I'm sorry to demand this of you but I must ask you to keep good relationships with the Ministry representatives at Hogwarts.

My, he thought, what a periphrasis.

"And I'm dead serious here, it applies even in the circumstance that I would be forced to leave, which is not unlikely, as I come to think more every day. You will not cross Dolores Jane Umbridge. If anything, be her ally. Luckily, she seems to have developed a certain liking for you...

He would have killed him. How could this man's eyes twinkle in such a situation! This was not light, this was not comical, and as far as he was concerned it was on the verge of prostitution, for Merlin's sake!

"Calm down, I'm not asking you to marry her (even if you have to admit it would be the perfect cover). But act as if you were sharing her opinions, which, for a reason that continues to elude me, she seems to already believe. Your actions need to be coherent to those who gauge you, and you have no particular reason to be attached and loyal to me in their minds."

He was about to protest, just for the sake of it. This was maybe the most annoying point of the list: he was attached to Albus Dumbledore. For various and not so good reasons maybe, but the wizard was brilliant, he was on the whole benevolent, and most of all, he granted second chances. And third too. This was well-known, and he probably knew where his own interest was by doing so, but the fact was, in the actual society, he was almost the only one who did.

Of course, it was not a reason not to give the old fox a taste of his own medicine: integrity.

"In a nutshell, I have to be her pet, if I got you right? I may be a good actor, but there are limits to what one can pretend, you know? Or maybe you don't."

"Now don't be touchy. Fudge is, sadly, hugely influenced by her opinion. She has more followers than you think, and for him she represents a considerable electoral vote. Her...attention could help you to restore your own reputation."

As if he gave a damn about his reputation."I don't care what her kind thinks."

"You're wrong. In fact, your situation is awfully complicated; you can't do with being suspected to serve me, but you have to avoid being associated with Deatheaters too. Right now, the Ministry has annexed all that can be called "good". The minds of the people are curious. They aren't sharp enough to cut anything, to decipher. So they will just push things aside, so as the horizon line can be neat and clear. When they heard of Voldemort's return, they couldn't hold onto the fact. They can't separate the true from the false. So they just ignore the whole of it. They pushed it aside with many things, including Harry Potter, including me. You know very well they were in place too when it was decided to treat you as, let's say, a rock of the mountain formed by the Dark Lord and his supporters, his monument of deaths, crimes and everything that was basically seen as evil, and indeed was. The people's mind, and it might look like a generalization on those who govern but pardon this insult to your intelligence, the people's mind is very basic. Going back to your case, they wouldn't believe you, because your ties to one side and to the other were more complex than usual. And of course because you always refused to give them your reasons."

There was a lot to be said about the last statement. Now he wasn't really sure who refused to let them know. He, for one thing, had a secret to keep, and wouldn't have spilled it out for limited judges. But by doing so he had become very useful, a plausible spy. Sure, he was paying his debts, but sometimes he felt like some nail under the hammer of justice.

"Reasons don't matter. The fact is that it shows they're unable to imagine someone leaving the Dark Lord. And that really tells you a lot. Everyone has reasons. I don't care about being understood by people like them."

"That is not what I ask. Just promise me you won't get noticed. Everything could be lost."

And then he looked old and tired, and as every time he suddenly looked old and tired, Severus agreed with whatever he was asking. His reticence had been mostly rhetoric, anyway. He was about to leave when the old man stated, "Oh and don't forget to enjoy your newly acquired popularity among the staff. And by that I mean _all_ the staff."

Merlin, his eyes were twinkling again. He knew, as always, he knew.

"I just can't let anybody mess up with my missions, especially now."

"True enough, but you will discover one day that Minerva isn't just anybody. I'm concerned with your well being in general but you know I can't really be helpful in certain situations. Others have decided not to let you suffer alone. Even you can be given a break from your usual self, don't you think?"

Tempted to ask what he exactly took his usual self to be, Severus only clenched his teeth.

"It's too dangerous."

"Who do you think she is? She's part of the Order, and a valuable member. I'm not sure you would prevail in a duel against her, and even I would suffer a bit. She's not made of sugar. You, of all people, should know it, I still remember the time she almost knock you down because you made a student cry…

"Maybe. But those are memories."

"Ah but they can be interpreted no differently than if it was me healing you..."

"What exactly are you implying?"

"That, my dear boy," he looked at him above his glasses, "it's not inconceivable, even for dark wizards, that some people may care for you."

That time, among others, Severus came out of the office with an uneasy feeling he attributed to the abuse of sentimental discourse. He still had to be in Umbridge's good graces. But now that wasn't even his most pressing problem.

**R&R pleaseee (you'll have cookies, or even a pink unicorn, for I got one for my birthday, that was yesterday. A highly mature and intellectual gift, me think. Hum)**


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